Normality and Insanity, Life and the Avengers
by Half-a-bottle-Pepsi
Summary: Assorted oneshots about Steve, Tony, and their family. Superfamily plus a daughter, mostly centered around the daughter. Not in chronological order. Superhusbands, superfamily, post-movie. Rated T for possible future language.
1. Itch

Steve was dreaming. Actually, he was having a very nice dream. He was sitting in his living room with – of all people – Peggy. And they were talking and laughing, and then the lights dimmed and music – music that he _knew_ – filled the room, and all of a sudden they were dancing.

"Thank you," she murmured quietly, "for having this last dance with me."

Steve smiled slightly. "I've moved on," he replied, not quite an answer, but it served its purpose. "I'm happy."

"I'm glad. You picked a great partner, a great life. I wish you all the best, Steve Rogers."

"I wish you the same, Peggy Carter." He dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead. She grinned up at him and they continued their dance, no longer talking. It was peaceful, soothing – final.

"Papa?" a voice said behind the music. "Papa, pwease. I ha' a bad dweam."

Steve forced his eyes open, feeling a small, chubby hand lay hesitantly on his broad shoulder. He smiled tiredly at his four-year-old daughter, whose whimpers died down a bit now that her father was awake to protect her. Sitting up, he scooped the teary-eyed little girl into his arms.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" he asked, hushing her soft cries.

"I ha' a bad dweam," the shaken child repeated in her somewhat adorable lisp. "They was bugth, thpiderth and co- co- co'roacheth, and they wuh crawlin' all over me. I'm _itchy_, Papa!" She scratched desperately at her arms and legs and scalp. "It itcheth were they wuh crawlin' on me!"

She whimpered again, burying her face in the crook of his neck. The poor child seemed to have more of a fear of bugs than most children. She was absolutely terrified. He hugged her close, careful not to accidentally squeeze too hard, stroking her mussed blonde hair soothingly.

"Alright then, up we go," he whispered, rising from the bed with his daughter still wrapped up in his arms and trudging towards the bathroom, making as little noise as possible. It would not do to wake his seven-year-old son or down-on-sleep husband. He sat the girl on the counter by the sink and began to rummage through the cabinets. "Maria Anne," he scolded, hearing the scrape of bitten-down nails on skin as she continued to scratch at her pink skin, "don't do that. You'll only make it worse."

"Bu' it itcheth!" she whined, her hand gravitating towards her chest, where the pinkness seemed worst. Steve grabbed the tiny hand and placed it back on the counter, muttering an 'aha!' as he found what he was looking for. A bottle of lotion.

"This should help the itching," Steve assured her, beginning to rub it into her arms, which were still rounded with baby fat. Maria Anne closed her eyes as the cool, relieving sensation hit her pink skin. He worked in silence for a few moments, before Maria Anne spoke up again.

"I 'on't like bugth, Papa," she stated seriously. Steve stifled a chuckle, nodding.

"I know you don't, pumpkin," he replied with a smile. "Don't you worry, no more bugs tonight."

Maria Anne visibly heaved a sigh of relief. "Okay," she said. "Tank 'oo, Papa."

"My pleasure, pumpkin." He had just finished rubbing in the lotion on the last bit of the little girl's legs when he saw her eyes flutter drowsily. "Let's get you back to bed."

Eyes closed, Maria Anne held her arms out to be picked up, yawning cutely. "Can I stay wit you an' Daddy?" she asked sleepily, resting her head on Steve's shoulder.

"Of course, sweetheart."

Maria Anne was already half asleep by the time Steve got back to his bed seconds later, surprised to see the seven-year-old Peter snoring softly against the bluish glow in Tony's chest. Tony grinned tiredly at him, mouthing 'nightmare,' and raising an eyebrow towards the little girl in Steve's arms. Steve mouthed 'same' back at the genius, settling the two of them in.

It was the perfect family picture, which would stay in the memories of Steve and Tony for the rest of their lives. Their two perfect children snuggled up between them, smiling slightly at whatever childish fancy had appeared in their dreams, their hands intertwined and resting protectively over the two. Neither of them would have ever dreamed of this, years ago, but now this, this perfect little family, was their whole world. And they wouldn't change that for anything.

"I wish you the best, Steve Rogers," a voice whispered in the back of his mind.

He was truly happy.


	2. The Report Card

Maria Anne had never been afraid to take home a report card before.

Sure, she'd been nervous. One of her fathers happened to be a genius, after all (even if nobody outside of the family happened to know that he was her father). If she got anything less than a hundred percent she got nervous. She was not a genius like her Daddy, even if she so wanted to be.

She _was_ considered advanced for her age. As an eighth grader, she was on a tenth grade math level, and a twelfth grade reading level. She'd won _awards_ (only ever honorable mentions, _but still_) for her scores on aptitude tests outside of school and her entries in writing competitions. In her advanced language arts class, she'd gotten a monumental round of applause for her argument in a mock Congress meeting.

But nothing Maria Anne ever did could compare to her fathers.

And now, Maria Anne was filled with guilt and shame and she was so, so scared. All because of a stupid report card. All because of a stupid math class. All because of a stupid B.

Granted, she _was_ in Geometry, and a B _was_ still (technically) above average. She wasn't _failing_ or anything. Geez.

In the back of her mind, something whispered about her Daddy building his first circuit board when he was four. _Four years old._

Maria Anne was so utterly thankful when her fathers were away on some sort of business when she got home that day. She didn't even bother to greet Jarvis the way she normally did, rushing up to her room and stuffing the report card beneath a pile of papers in a desk drawer. Rubbing away the tears burning at her eyes, she collapsed on her bed, curled up, and went to sleep.

A month passed without incident, and she'd almost forgotten about the report card. Occasionally, on a dark night, when she was nestled under the covers and her brain decided that _now might be a good time to remember everything bad or embarrassing you've ever done, _she would feel that swirling, somersaulting feeling of guilt just behind her stomach that made her feel queasy and squirmy, but she pushed it out of her mind. She was busy enough with schoolwork, extra band practice, play practice, art, and her writing.

Maria Anne particularly loved writing. She would often get inspiration at the most inconvenient times, such as during a test, or practice. So she had taken to carrying a notebook around and jotting down her ideas as soon as possible. A time or two, she'd even foregone paying attention in math class (the only one she needed to pay attention too, it seemed sometimes) to scribble her heart out. It made her feel sort of guilty afterwards (her Papa's teachings coming through, or maybe just her own morals), and quite panicked if she didn't understand the homework, but she couldn't bring herself to care once she looked at the scrawling words filling up the page. She was proud of those words.

This was just what Maria Anne was doing one month after she successfully hid her shameful report card. She was sitting on the windowsill, back against the frame, looking out over the expanse of New York City with a notebook balanced across her knees and a pencil in her hand. Every once in a while she would tear her eyes away from the sight before her and jot something on the lined pages, bottom lip caught between her teeth in her signature 'deep concentration' look. Her Papa's voice startled her out of this concentration.

"Maria Anne Rogers-Stark, what is this?"

That… was not good. Not good at _all_. Steve had that stern tone in his voice, along with a bit of incredulity, which had more often than not resulted in a timeout for a little Maria Anne. He'd not had to use that tone of voice in a long time, considering how much Maria Anne yearned for the approval and praise of her fathers. She was a little goody-two-shoes, according to other kids at school, and she didn't even care as long as her fathers were proud.

Steve did not sound proud. At all.

Panic bubbled up inside her. What had she done wrong? Was it because her room wasn't clean? Had she forgotten to do her homework? Did Peter tattle on her for sneaking candy into her room?

Then she saw the papers in Steve's hand. And it all went downhill from there.

Maria Anne paled, and sunk deeper into her seat, as if her notebook could hide her from her fate. She gulped. "I . . . don't . . . know?"

Steve waved the report card in front of her face. "I think you do," he said sternly, "as I found this inside your desk."

Before Maria Anne could say anything (what could she say, though – it's not like she could deny it), a whistling trickling in from the hallway. Tony entered the room.

Obviously her Daddy had been in the lab just now. He was wearing sweats and a grease-stained wife beater, oil streaking his fingertips and face. At the looks on his family's faces, he stopped short, raising an eyebrow. "What's going on here?" he asked looking back and forth from his husband to his daughter.

"Maria Anne hid her report card," Steve replied disapprovingly. Maria Anne saw the utterly disappointed look on his face, the one that made her want to curl up in a ball and be sick, and trembled. Tony's brows furrowed, confused.

"Why would she do that?"

"She got a B in math."

Tony Stark, Iron Man, the one person in the family that never shut up, even when he meant to, fell silent. Shocked. His daughter – his daughter got a B? In _math_? And that just made her feel worse, because her Daddy _never _stopped talking, even when he was nervous, or confused, or whatever. But he was, he was silent, and she just wanted to die. But obviously she couldn't just drop dead right here, just because she felt like it.

So she screamed.

"What were you doing in my room, anyway? I didn't give you permission! It's my room! You can't do that! Why were you going through my stuff anyway, huh? That's rude and disrespectful! How would _you _like it if I went through _your_ private things, huh? It's my report card, I didn't have to give it to you! Why do you care anyway? It's just a stupid report card for stupid math and it's _just a stupid B_!"

She jumped up, screaming rant eventually devolving into upset, enraged gibberish, and stormed into her room, trying to hide the burning tears until she was safely inside its walls.

Tony and Steve watched her leave with wide eyes. After a moment of silence, they looked at each other, and collapsed into a couch. "Jarvis," Tony said quietly, "turn on the security cams in her room."

"Yes sir," Jarvis replied hesitantly. "Are you sure?"

"Just do it," Steve said tiredly.

"It's just – a stupid – B!" Maria Anne cried, throwing her notebook at the wall. "I skipped two grade-levels of math! I'm in geometry as an _eighth grader_! So what if I'm not building _circuit boards! _Not everyone can be a genius! _I'm not a genius!_"

She fell back onto her bed and curled up in a ball, tear tracks already staining her face. "Why can't I be perfect and wonderful like them?" she whispered, sniffling. "Papa and Daddy and even Peter – why am I so boring and – and – normal?"

Steve looked close to tears, and Tony's face was blank. "Is that what she really thinks?" Steve asked, watching his little girl cry. "That she's not perfect?"

"I don't – I just," Tony said thickly. "I can't believe it."

"We need to talk to her," Steve said desperately. "We can't let her think that."

"Yeah," Tony muttered. "Yeah."

But Maria Anne didn't leave her room all weekend. No matter who knocked on the door, she refused to answer – not even a 'go away.' Even Peter was treated to silence; Peter, the amazing older brother who could always make it better if even their fathers couldn't. He just didn't understand. He was able to make his fathers proud of him, while all Maria Anne could see was shock and disappointment.

According to Jarvis, she'd spent the entire time curled up in her bed, sleeping, writing, and staring at her ceiling in turn. They didn't activate the security cameras again.

When Maria Anne finally came out on Monday morning, wearing her favorite Hulk pajamas (Bruce was always her favorite uncle, even if she'd never admit it – he wasn't as loud as Thor or as in turn stoic or sarcastic as Clint, and Rhodey wasn't around very much) and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she pretended nothing had happened. She ate breakfast with her family, ignoring the way they treated her like a china doll, or a glass figurine. She even declined Natasha's offer to drive her to school, citing she would rather walk.

That was unheard of. While she loved walking through the crowded city, Maria Anne was often late for school and in need of a ride, no matter how terrible traffic was. The family supposed it was a habit picked up from either Tony, or Peter, who was also often late.

She also called home to say she'd be hanging out with friends until dinner. Say, not ask. Maria Anne was ever the polite young girl; she always asked. Steve worried, pacing up and down the living room, and Tony had to stop himself from sending Happy Hogan, chauffeur and bodyguard, out to find her. He settled for tracking her cell phone, relieved to find she was just at a friend's house.

"She doesn't spend a lot of time with her friends, you know," Bruce said quietly from the doorway. Steve jumped.

"What?" he asked distractedly.

"She's almost always here. Trying to spend time with you, _the both of you_," he added when Steve opened his mouth, "when she can. And in case you get called out. She hates to be out of the tower when you get called out."

"What are you trying to say?" Tony questioned, keeping his eyes on the small blip on the holographic map in front of him that was his daughter.

"I'm trying to say that it's good that she's with her friends, especially since she's upset like this. So stop worrying and plan what you're going to say to her when she gets home."

"Yeah," Tony said thoughtfully. "Yeah."

It was long past dinner when Maria Anne shuffled her way out of the elevator and into the floor she and her family lived on. She dropped her bag on the side of the hallway and entered the kitchen, flicking the light on. With a sigh, she got herself a glass of water and gulped it down.

Maria Anne turned around and froze. There stood her fathers, Steve with his arms crossed and Tony tapping his foot on the tiled floor.

"Sorry," she muttered, turning to inspect her shoes. Her shaking hands, the ice clinking around in her glass, anything but the two men in front of her. "I forgot to call. Piper's mom invited me to stay for dinner."

Silence. She expected yelling, punishments – yet when she finally looked up, she saw not disappointed, angry faces, but tender and loving expressions. Maria Anne flew into her fathers' open arms, unable to maintain any semblance of upset towards them. They were her family.

And also she was terrible at holding a grudge.

Maria Anne cried as Steve and Tony held her between them, stroking her hair and assuring her that she was perfect, and they loved her. The look Steve sent Tony said that they would have to sit her down and talk later, but for now they were fine with warm assurances. Eventually, her tears dried up into weak hiccups, and Steve carried her to the couch, where the three of them cuddled up to each other.

She was completely worn out. Maria Anne didn't like to cry so much, as it made her everything ache and her eyes hurt, and she felt like a baby. Right now, though, she was content to fall asleep with her Papa and Daddy on either side of her. "I love you," she murmured as she drifted off.

"We love you too, sweetheart," Tony said warmly, pressing a kiss to her temple as Steve did the same to her cheek. Then, once they were sure she was off in the land of dreams, they shared a chaste kiss of their own, before settling in to fall asleep themselves. Later on, Peter would find them all snuggled up on the couch together and shake his head. His sister always was a daddies' girl, he would think as he wiggled into the group and closed his eyes.

Maria Anne smiled in her sleep.


	3. A Visit to the Doctor's Office

Maria Anne was now a proud three-year-old, as she'd cheerfully reminded every person she'd ever met. Her birthday had just been the week before, and her annual check-up was due for – oh wow, it had really been a week already – today. Tony actually felt – almost – well, if Tony Stark, Iron Man, genius billionaire no-longer-playboy philanthropist could feel such a thing – _nervous_.

But the doctor's office wasn't really a doctor's office after all. It was just Bruce's lab a floor down. Honestly, as if Tony would trust anyone else with his daughter's first visit to the doctor's as a part of their little family. Bruce was her uncle, after all. She'd only been adopted the year before, and her other checkups had been taken care of at the adoption agency, before she'd even met her new fathers.

It had gone fairly well, at first. Maria Anne had happily let her Daddy sit her on the cool metal table, swinging her legs, looking around, and wondering why she was in Uncle Bruce's lab. She didn't really know what a 'lab' was, but that was what everyone called the room she was in, and she knew that she wasn't supposed to be in it without permission. She knew that Daddy also had a 'lab' of his own, but his was a lot different, and usually had a lot more dirty metal things in it. Papa had told her that she wasn't allowed to touch those things, even though she wanted to know what they were.

Then Uncle Bruce had walked in, and Maria Anne was delighted. Uncle Bruce was her favorite uncle, although Papa also told her that you weren't supposed to pick favorite family members. "Unca Brooth!" she yelled with that little lisp of hers, smiling toothily at the man.

"Maria Anne!" Bruce had smiled back. He tapped his chin, pretending to think while looking at his notes. "Now, how old are you again?"

"Thuh – three, Unca Brooth!" she replied, holding up her hand. Tony smiled and shook his head, reaching out to bend the little girl's thumb and pinkie down. She looked inquiringly at her fingers and then giggled. "Oopsie – tank yoo, Daddy!"

Tony wondered, as Bruce went through the routine with Maria Anne smiling and laughing the whole time, how he could have been nervous.

Then it was time for the vaccination.

"Okay, sweetie, this is going to pinch a little," Bruce said soothingly, glancing over at Tony. Tony moved closer and grasped the little girl's hand loosely. He couldn't remember being afraid of needles when he was young, but Bruce had warned him that many were. They were prepared, just in case that might happen.

Obviously not prepared enough.

As soon as the needle was in sight, Maria Anne screamed. Squirming away from the monstrous thing, she wrenched herself away from her Daddy's grasp and fled. Wide-eyed, Tony and Bruce took a second to get over their shock before chasing after her.

The little devil was very good at wriggling into small spaces quickly, only to pull herself out just as fast when it seemed like one of them would catch her. _Hide-and-go-seek gone wrong, _Tony thought as he tried and failed to grab hold of the screeching child.

"Maria Anne, it's okay!" he called desperately. "It's only going to feel like a pinch, you won't even remember it!"

"Pinthing's ruh-ood!" Maria Anne shrieked back as she took refuge behind a large lab table stuffed in the corner. "Papa told me so!"

Tony groaned, mentally cursing his husband's forties' mannerisms. "Come on, sweetheart, it'll be over in a second," he coaxed. "You can have ice cream for dessert."

"Nuh-uh!" she refuted, shaking her head firmly. Nothing would get her to budge.

This continued on until Tony was completely exhausted and Bruce was – well, he couldn't tell if Bruce was trying to hold back laughter or the Hulk. "How 'bout we get the Capsicle in here," Tony finally said. Bruce slapped his forehead.

She wouldn't come out for Steve, either.

An hour later, they ended up reaching underneath the lab table and forcefully giving her the shot. She screamed, and cried, and almost made herself sick.

When she was finally put down for her nap, Tony collapsed face-down into the couch. Without even taking his eyes from the cushions, he pointed at Steve and announced in a muffled voice, "You're taking her next year."


End file.
